


Ruffles on the Sea

by capnhelarctos



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Big Bang 2015, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:28:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5408150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capnhelarctos/pseuds/capnhelarctos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josephine has found herself in a bind, and Varric calls on his old friend Isabela to help smooth it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ruffles on the Sea

The letter lay on Josephine’s desk, fragrant paper with ornate, cursive handwriting. The woman herself was on her feet, pacing in a circle before the fireplace of her office. A few tufts of hair were poking out of their usually well-kept styling, from repeated instances of Josephine gripping at her head and letting out noises of frustration. 

Varric had been standing in the entrance for a few minutes now, but thought it better to keep his presence quiet for a moment before fixing a warm smile on his face, strolling in with a bright call of “Ruffles! We were organizing a game of Wicked Grace for after supper tonight, and I thought I’d give you a heads-up for the chance to bankrupt Cullen again.” The dwarf leaned against the wood of the doorway for her reply, crossing his arms. “Last time you really cleaned house, I’m sure Blackwall would like a shot at some of his dignity back.”

The Antivan smiled obligingly, chuckling to herself before replying, “But of course, Varric. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She walked back over to her desk and smoothed the fabric of her attire, settling herself into the cushioned seat. “I must reply to some pressing matters beforehand, but I should finish before meals are through.” 

Slinking into the seat on the opposite side of her wide desk, Varric raised an eyebrow. “Anything I can help with? I find myself with a bit of writer’s block, could do with writing for some real-life drama.”

A slight frown crossed Josephine’s face as she took the letter and its envelope into her hand, opening a drawer and placing it down within. “While I would very much enjoy seeing how some of our allies would respond to your particular style of writing, I’m afraid this particular situation is one I have to address on my own. Although,” she let out a sigh, and avoided the dwarf’s eyes. “There are more permanent outcomes to dealing with this that could alter my role here with the Inquisition,” she admitted. There was a long pause where neither of them said anything before Josephine stood. 

“I’m sorry to have blurted that out, I don’t know what I was thinking. You have your own concerns to consider, coordinating correspondence with Hawke and your situation with Bianca and the Coterie, I was out of line troubling you with my..” she spoke quickly as she began arranging items on her desk, then fluffing pillows that were throughout the room as Varric began to laugh. 

“Ruffles, Ruffles. Relax. We’re talking about ourselves. That sort of thing tends to happen to friends. Not just about sunshine and rainbows, but clouds and storms, too. Listen, if you can handle this on your own, I’ll back out entirely and not bring this up again. But if you need an ear, or a helping hand, I’m always here. You don’t need to worry about putting me out. There is nothing you could ask of me that would be worse than something Hawke and I got into in Kirkwall. Of course, don’t take that as a challenge…” the two of them laughed. Josephine smiled softly, letting out relieved laughter. 

“Thank you, Varric. I’m not sure if you recall, but Inquisitor Cadash helped restore my family’s trading status a few years ago. Recently, that have been issues with some of the ships, and my family has requested I come to Antiva personally to settle some of these matters...”

 

Another slosh of bitter liquid hit the floor as Sera hit the table with her fist, her tumbler of ale toppling over yet again. “Where in the fuck did you get that hand, ya bloody cheatin’ sonofa!” she struck Blackwall’s shoulder as she half-slurred the question out. The warden grinned broadly, off-white glimmering through the muddy fur of his massive beard. 

“I do no such thing, little whelp. Maybe if you’d pay attention to the game instead of making eyes at your lady love every two minutes, you’d be up a few points,” he offered with a faux sternness to his cadence. Dagna, across the table, flushed a deep red but also gave a beaming smile as Sera blew a kiss at her. 

“I would wager if that were the case, the floor would be a mite dryer, too,” Varric added, kicking the wet from the tops of his boots. He noticed, eyes off the table, a familiar form standing over at the bar, chatting with Cabot. “Well, I’ll be,” he mused, before putting his cards into the center. Pushing his seat out, he told the Iron Bull, “Deal me out this round, but I’ll be back.” The Qunari nodded and grunted in reply, collecting and shuffling the cards, but eye fixed on the figure Varric strode up to meet. 

“This seat taken?” the dwarf asked, resting a hand on the stool beside the woman. She was curvaceous, wearing a skintight white tunic dress that stopped abruptly at the start of her thighs, with a strip of rich dark flesh exposed between the fabric and the improbably-high leather boots, thick buckles stacked all along the height. She wore a dark blue patterned bandana atop her head, thick earthy locks spilling from beneath it. Light bounced off the gold in her earrings, elaborate neckpiece and her small labret stud. Her sultry laugh drifted to meet Varric. 

“I was saving it for good company, which makes it perfect for you. What are you drinking?” Isabela had the bartender top them off and clinked glasses with her old compatriot. “It took a bit longer than anticipated, but I finally made it over to this castle in the middle of goddamn nowhere. Don’t you feel a little anxious being this land-locked, Varric?”

Smoothing his hair, the blonde let out a chuckle. “I think that concern is one you have more often than most folks. We move around often enough that it’s never been too much of an issue to me. Have you been here long?” he asked, taking a pull on his drink. She shook her head. 

“Got in this afternoon, Old Sister Nightingale personally escorted me to my quarters. Do you suppose she’s still not particularly keen on me?” she asked with a half-smile, sighing after a quaff. “I had come in with a caravan, spent the afternoon resting. But it would seem to me that you have a game of Wicked Grace going,” she commented, turning to gaze at the table across the tavern, leaning against the bar

“That would be the case, indeed. Pretty auspicious, if you ask me. Maybe the game itself summoned you here,” the dwarf replied, turning in kind, but sitting on the stool to maintain a height similarity. “I would gauge everyone to be at about half-mast drunkenness. Actually, the one to watch in this batch would be Ruffles, over there. She’s quite the shark.”

“Ruffles? I have so missed your nicknames, Varric,” Isabela remarked, sipping from her mug. “‘Ruffles.’ Mmm… I doubt you’d suddenly be chummy with the Seeker, that leaves that blonde putting the beardy guy in a choke hold, the redhead dwarf, the darker lady with all the gold in front of her…” 

Varric laughed. “Is the pile that big already? Ruffles is the last one, with the fancy blouse. That would be Josephine, the Inquisition’s ambassador and present reigning champ. Also, just to warn you, Knight-Commander Cullen is now Commander Cullen, and is most likely somewhere nearby in his smallclothes.” 

The Rivaini raised her brows at that comment, downed the rest of her drink, and set it on the bar as Varric followed suit. The dwarf ordered them another round. As Isabela gripped the handle of her mug, she elbowed Varric playfully in the ribs and asked, “Well, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends? I finally made the trip out here, after all.” The dwarf hopped from the stool and sighed exaggeratedly, musing aloud “Better I own up to it before you clear them all out and hop ship, huh?” The two of them walked across the tavern and sat near the head of the table, Josephine on the left of Isabela, Varric to the right, and Krem beside him. 

“But Chief,” the warrior was gently asserting, “three griffons beats a pair of dragons. You’re out this round.” Krem was pushing the pile back towards the middle, away from the large Qunari. “No way, how does that even make sense? A pair of dragons could beat fuckin’ anything, Krem Puff. Don’t you remember what I was telling you about the one we fought last week? When was the last time you saw a griffon do fuckin’ anything?!,” the Iron Bull was slurring his speech a bit, and seemed to be slumping in his seat. The table space and floor near him was littered with empty mugs. “Where’s the Boss, he’d know how to settle this horseshit. BOSS!” The grey man started to stand in his seat, the table catching on his belt buckle and rising, falling back to the ground as he stood completely, cards and drinks hopping on the table. As if by the grace of the maker, the only upturned drink fell straight into Krem’s long-suffering lap as he groaned and cast a pitiful glance at the Seeker, sitting across from him. 

“Inquisitor Cadash and Dorian went to Val Royeaux because Dorian insisted he wanted to spend their anniversary drenched in wine and cheeses before returning to Tevinter to deal with…. Tevinter,” Cassandra explained, crossing her arms and looking up impatiently at the drunken Qunari. At this, the Iron Bull simply replied, “Oh. Well. Who’s dealing this round? Let’s get this thing going!” as he sat back down. Dagna quickly began doling out cards, adding “This round, golems are wild.” 

 

Varric stood beside the hearth near the entrance of Skyhold, as he was wont to do, thumbing through various envelopes and murmuring to himself. “Merchant’s Guild…. Merchant’s Guild... Bianca, I’m sure nothing dramatic will come of that one…. Coterie? Bleh. Not even taking the effort to disguise the source…” He held up an envelope that seemed a bit weather worn and ragged, smiling to himself, knowing Hawke had managed to get word to him from wherever he and Blondie were holed up at the moment. Taking that particular letter and tucking it into the inner breast pocket of his coat, the dwarf looked up just in time to see Josephine hobbling through the garden’s entrance. 

“Good morning there, Ruffles. How is the reigning Wicked Grace champion faring? I heard from some of the staff that you all were up for a while after I hit the hay.”

“I am quite well, thank you for asking. Last night was very exciting! It’s not so often that I get to face such a worthy opponent as your friend, the Admiral. She’s so cutthroat. I thought that Blackwall would cry as he gave up the last of his coin, but when he gave it to her she just had this air about her…as though she had managed to convince him it was in his best interest to give it, not that it was lost. It was very impressive.”

“Maybe she could teach you some tricks about her type of coercion, and then we’d all be in for it,” Varric laughed warmly. “To be honest, I’m surprised to hear she didn’t take the pot, last night. Back in Kirkwall, we’d have to sneak her into games in later rounds, once people had enough to drink that they didn’t know what was happening, because they’d refuse to play if she was there from the get-go. You must be upping your game, Ruffles.” The ambassador giggled and gave a small, proud curtsey. 

“It was a very pleasant distraction. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to dealing with this family business,” Josephine said. Varric nodded obligingly and she turned toward her office. The dwarf went back to shuffling through the envelopes, making a face and throwing one directly into the fireplace before snapping his fingers and laughing. “I think I’ve got an idea…” he murmured to himself before placing the envelopes into a different pocket of his coat, strolling out the entrance of Skyhold’s main building. He breathed in deeply, greeting passersby and taking a moment to chat up Scout Harding before heading into the tavern. 

After surveying the first floor and noting only a few infantry soldiers relaxing, Varric climbed the stairs and managed to find Isabela seated at a table by herself, staring out the window while eating some soup. He sat himself across from her, noting, “Beats the hell out of the mystery goo at The Hanged Man.” Isabela nodded, chuckling, “That isn’t a very high bar to clear, Varric. But it does the trick, for sure,” she said, rubbing one of her temples and groaning slightly. 

The dwarf smirked, leaning over and taking a quaff of some of Isabela’s ale before commenting, “I heard you lost at Wicked Grace last night.” The Admiral nodded, a sly smirk on her face as she shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.” Varric laughed, “Buuuuullshit. I’ve never seen you lose at a card game, Rivaini. Not a once.” Isabela laughed into her mug, and nodded as she set it back on the table. “You’ve caught me, Varric.” 

He turned sideways on his stool to lean against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he posited, “But why would the cutthroat Admiral of the Siren’s Call throw a game? Granted, it might not have taken much work. Ambassador Montilyet is reigning champ in these parts.” “She’s your ambassador? Well then. That explains why she’s so sweet, charming. Rather disarming…” Isabela mused quietly. 

Varric’s eyebrow rose, watching Isabela’s eyes take on a particularly sultry tone. “Uh… huh. Listen, speaking of which, I have a proposition for you. Josephine seems to be in a bit of pickle, and it seems as though she may be in need of the seafaring sort to straighten it out. Simple transport run. Pays well, and the ambassador needs to discuss something in person, so she’ll need a crew she’ll be safe with. I had thought to toss your name out as a line, see if she’d be interested,” Varric mentioned with affected casualness, examining his fingernails before casting a look at the Rivaini. 

Isabela sank back in her seat, giving a smug grin back to the dwarf. “Well, if it doesn’t put you out, by all means, cast out lines. Let me know what she says.” Varric nodded, standing and stretching, giving a loud, exaggerated yawn as he did so. “I guess I could, but I might need a nap first… Still just worn out from getting my ass beat, losing all that money…” Isabela laughed as she playfully smacked the side of her boot against the dwarf’s posterior. “You can sleep later, you bastard!” Varric chuckled to himself as he headed down the stairs. 

 

There were birds cawing overhead as Isabela strode toward the shorter woman standing against the rope barrier of the docks, facing the water. Waves from the departing vessels were rising and meeting one another, their sound a soothing backdrop to the otherwise bustling port. Josephine had a half-unravelled scroll in her grasp, her expression scrunched in deep concentration over its contents. The Rivaini leaned against a wooden pole, facing the smaller woman, adjusting the position of the hat upon her own head before beginning, “You just let everything around you fall to the wayside when you focus on something, don’t you?” 

Josephine blinked as a deep flush came to her cheeks. “Oh, my. Do forgive me, dear Admiral, I was just giving this inventory list a final inspection. I wanted to be sure the adjustments you suggested had been taken into consideration, though I’m afraid a few of the items were-” she noticed the intense smirk that had overtaken the pirate’s face and trailed off, the blush unabated.

Isabela put a hand on the ambassador’s shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll be fine, Sweetness. I trust you to ensure we don’t get caught with our pants down.” Her hand fell away as the two began to walk toward the gangplank. Josephine caught herself considering that since Isabela didn’t wear pants in the first place, it would be difficult for her to be encountered with them down in the first place. Although, there was chance she wore something under her long white tunic, and this train of thought did nothing to relieve her blush. Thankfully, Isabela was chatting with various members of the crew as they made their way ahead.

 

Varric let out a contented sigh as the cool evening breeze wafted over him, his cloth hammock swaying gently. The sun was setting in the distance, the sky painted shades of orange and red. He carefully turned away from the sight, leaning slightly over the side of the fabric, staring down at the activity of the ship from his vantage point in the crow’s nest. This was not exactly what he had in mind when he solicited help from Isabela, but things had been quiet at Skyhold. Hell, even Inquisitor Cadash was off on vacation. When the Admiral had joked that Varric should come along, he surprised himself when he agreed. The trip itself was pretty standard fare. Some of the newer crew members had an extended period over the first week or so of gaining their sea legs, Josephine leading the pack with what had seemed like an ever-present pale green pallor. With time, though, seasickness and growing pains had grown less prevalent. 

One of the crewhands had taken to teaching how to tie various knots around sundown, while crew members were killing time waiting for supper. Varric had taken to calling the man “Smiley,” a moniker that seemed to betray his ever-present scowl. Regardless, he seemed good-natured enough, and so when Smiley appeared from the crew quarters, Varric made his way down the tall pole and approached him. The two began chatting and eventually Smiley walked off. Varric felt the surface beneath him shift, and put his arms out in attempts to right himself. Waves typically grew stronger as night drifted in, and the ship’s occupants had little choice but to make due with the lack of stability.The dwarf surveyed the rest of the deck, ears perking up to the sound of pieces of metal clanging. He made his way to the opposite end of the ship and leaned against a barrel.

Isabela stood in a low, wide stance, one knee bent before her, holding a dueling saber in one hand, the other held behind her back. Standing opposite was her apparent opponent, Josephine. The Antivan’s stance was a bit shakier, and anxiety painted her expression. The two of them had started these practice sessions a few days prior, when Josephine started asking Isabela about what the Rivaini preferred her fighting style be called. As a child in Antiva, the ambassador had requisite lessons, but it had been many years since she had put them to use. Isabela was all too eager to offer instruction.  
“Your feet are perfect, but turn your wrist just a bit. That’s good. Step closer in, right foot, left foot. Meet my blade,” and here the admiral’s words were met with a metallic ting similar to the one Varric had heard across the ship. A blanket of blues drifted across the sky as the two were slowly parrying one another, Isabela giving advice and encouragement along the way, Josephine’s face stern with concentration.

Varric heard a frustrated grunt and turned to see Smiley carrying an extensive length of thick, coarse braided rope draped over his shoulder and around his waist. He had excess trailing behind him as he walked toward Varric. The practice duel, however, was occupying the space closest to the dwarf, so the man had no choice but to lug the heavy hemp around the scene, half-circling Varric’s proximity before reaching him. “There you are. I told you to wait over there!” The human grumbled, huffing as he set the weight of the rope down between him and Varric. The ship shifted down, then up for a moment as it went against, then over, then past a wave. “Sorry, Smiley, you took a while and I got distracted,” the blonde said apologetically, picking up an end of the rope. “Is this what we’re working with today?” he asked. The man nodded, tugging somewhere near the middle to retrieve all he couldn’t manage to carry before. 

Isabela hopped back to avoid a straight thrust from Josephine’s blade. “Fantastic! You’re a natural, Sweetness.” The Antivan felt warmth rise to her cheeks as she parried a blow. “Now, let’s practice defense. Keep your eyes on me, but move back,” Isabela instructed, moving closer and faster toward her pupil, swinging the blade. Josephine met the Admiral’s gaze as she quickly moved backward, giving an excited grin. In that same moment that she was retreating, however, Smiley was pulling at the rope he’d left a ways behind the scene. Her ankle caught on the cord and she quickly lost her footing. At the same time, the ship dipped sharply toward its side and jerked back up quickly. Dropping the blade, Josephine swung her arms about trying to right herself, but found no support. Gravity did the rest as she slammed her body against the support rail, the jerky movement of the ship upending her form as it slid over the side. She let out a terrified scream that was halted by a hard crash against the waves. 

Several crew members ran to the rail as someone called out, “Man overboard!” Varric dropped the rope immediately and called out, “Shit! Isabela, you have to go after her! She can’t swim!” 

The Rivaini was already climbing on top of the rail, tossing the blade behind her before turning to the dwarf and asking, “Why aren’t you helping?” 

“I can’t swim either! Go! I’ll get a buoy!”

Without another thought, Isabela put her hands together before her and dove into the turbulent water. Her skin immediately tensed from what felt like icy needles piercing her. She opened her eyes underwater to try to see, but while the setting sun had been beautiful, the orb’s present absence did her no favors. The Rivaini surfaced, treading water while taking in deep breaths as she could get them, straining her ears to listen. Nothing. She called out, “Sweetness! Can you hear me?” Commotion to her left. Isabela took in a breath, submerged and swam toward the noise. Upon surfacing, she found nothing. Panic began to creep into her call. “Josephine! Sweetness, answer me!” For what felt like a terrifying eternity, Isabela treaded water and said nothing. 

Finally, a gasping cry from a distance. “-ela, I’m here! Hel-” the call broke abruptly, and Isabela turned to just barely see a hand waving above a tall wave. She made her way over, catching the Antivan around her waist and pulling her to the surface, offsetting the force by letting herself linger under the waves for a moment. Josephine was gasping and coughing, hands wildly trying to claim purchase on Isabela’s body. The admiral felt herself sinking further as a result, and had to let go of the younger woman for a moment as she surfaced, taking a deep breath before placing the ambassador’s hands around her waist. 

“Heads up!” Varric shouted down as he threw a buoy tied to a rope down to the two. Isabela took hold a moment before wrapping Josephine’s arms around the float. The dwarf and Smiley pulled the thick cord closer to the vessel. Another member of the crew threw down a long rope ladder that Isabela managed to grab. 

Once they were beside the ship, the admiral guided the trembling ambassador onto the ladder, staying only a few rungs below her. The two climbed as the crew simultaneously pulled, eventually climbing over the rail and back onto the deck. With nightfall, the winds had turned from balmy and refreshing to cutting and frigid. Once on her feet, Isabela gave a brief word of gratitude to Varric and the crew. She moved over to the coughing, trembling Antivan, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder while crouching down to meet her eyes. “Sweetness, I’m going to my quarters. Will you be alright?” Josephine let out a soft sob and shook her head, throwing her arms around the Rivani’s neck. “Please… I don’t want to be alone right now,” she breathed quietly, sniffling. The admiral, without another word, held her arm across Josephine’s back as she swept the other behind her knees, cradling the younger woman in her arms. Carefully but with purpose, she strode across the deck, up and bank of stairs. She came to a sturdy-looking door and opened it. 

Crossing the threshold of her quarters, Isabela placed the dripping Antivan onto her own feet once they were a few steps inside, having closed and locked the door behind her. Josephine felt heat rise to her cheeks as Isabela’s face passed her own, her own breathing still labored from the whole endeavor. The Admiral let out a relieved sigh before walking across the room. “You should get out of those wet clothes, all of them, we need you to be warm and dry, Sweetness,” she called back to the ambassador, the sound of sopping fabric hitting the floor following not soon afterward. Orange light started to fill the room as the admiral set to lighting a few large candles. 

Josephine nodded to herself and began working the various ties and buttons of her ensemble with shaking fingers. She noticed her teeth were still chattering and worried about the possibility of hypothermia. The weight of the heavy, elaborate fabric made the process of undressing longer than it would typically, and the Antivan found herself pausing when she was down to her dark, delicate smallclothes. She hooked her thumb under the waistband of her panties on one hip, and wondered just what Isabela was doing on the other side of the room. She turned her head to investigate. 

The Rivaini had let her wild locks free of the usual bandana they hid beneath, and had managed to shed her sparse clothing much quicker than Josephine had. Her skin was a rich bronze tone, and curve of her hips gave way to thick, smooth thighs. Here and there a scar from an apparent duel injury darkened the flesh further, including one longer on not far from her navel. A sudden glint of reflected light drew the Antivan’s eyes directly to Isabela’s ample breasts, and she saw the small golden hoops that pierced both of the Admiral’s nipples. The ambassador didn’t know she could blush more than she had been, when Isabela reached her with a large, fluffy towel and a knowing smirk. “I would take those off too before using this,” she said, motioning to the lacy underthings as she placed the towel on a nearby chair, turning and walking back toward the opposite end of the room, giving the ambassador a bit of privacy. At this, Josephine quickly undid her brassiere, and slid her panties off before wrapping the towel around herself, basking in the warmth. As she ran the cloth over her damp skin, she turned to face Isabela, surprised to see the Rivaini’s face crumpled in a slight frown. 

“Sweetness, your teeth are still chattering and your lips are still a bit blue. We can’t have that. Here,” she started, pulling the thick blankets and sheets up from where they met the pillows on the expansive bed. “I insist.” Josephine nodded a quick reply, half-tripping onto the bed, settling herself within the myriad soft textiles. Isabela nodded in satisfaction, then sat herself on a stool in front of a vanity mirror, slowly running a thick brush through her dripping locks. She hummed lightly to herself, starting from the tips of her hair and working her way slowly toward the top. As the Admiral was the only thing moving inside the room, Josephine found herself staring at the seafarer, noting what looked like an intricate, loopy tattoo at the point where Isabela’s back gave way to her hips and posterior. She found that she was still shivering and spoke softly, a bit of tremble to her voice, “Admiral…”

 

Isabela turned to face the younger woman and cocked her head to the side a bit. “Yes, Sweetness?” The ambassador blushed as she spoke, the flush standing in contrast to the rich blues and greens of the blankets that covered up to her chin. She turned to her side to face Isabela. “I still feel quite cold, I’m not sure if the blankets are helping. I was wondering…” she trailed off, staring a moment as Isabela had stood, then sat atop the blankets beside her on the edge of the bed. “I have heard that the best way to distribute warmth is pressing one’s skin against another’s skin. I was wondering if you would indulge me, please,” she managed. The Rivaini’s gaze softened and she nodded, slipping her hand beneath the sheets to move herself toward the Antivan’s body. “Of course, Lady ambassador.” Once beside her, Isabela positioned herself on her side, placing her lower leg atop Josephine’s calf, slowly moving it up and down, while her hands began to do the same over the younger woman’s shoulders, arms and hips. Josephine was unsure what to do with herself, and so mimicked the Admiral’s motions, feeling a genuine warmth starting to grow between them. 

“I didn’t get a chance to properly thank you,” Josephine said, her gaze meeting Isabela’s. “It all happened so quickly, and I was so frightened I couldn’t think. And you jumped right in after me as though it was nothing! It was… incredibly brave, and selfless. I don’t know how to show you my gratitude.” Isabela smiled broadly, her hands moving in broad circles over Josephine’s shoulder blades, the palms slowly working the chill from soft skin. “It might have been a bit foolish to board a ship voyage without knowing how to swim, but you have Varric in your company, there. I think you’re rather brave, fighting to cement your family’s right to the sea. All that said, I couldn’t just let the mermaids claim you. You have great potential as a duelist, and let’s say you can thank me by not letting it go to waste. Promise me?” Josephine smiled as she replied, “I promise.”

As she gazed back into the eyes of the young ambassador, Isabela couldn’t help but notice that said woman’s fingertips were running over her breasts, lingering just a bit longer at her nipples with each instance. In kind, she began tracing small patterns down the Antivan’s spine, letting her hand just barely pass over Josephine’s plentiful ass. At this, Isabela felt the slightest jerk of the young woman’s hips against hers. She slipped her hands on either side of Josephine’s jaw, cupping her face in her palms, a thumb tracing her bottom lip. With a sharp intake of breath, Josephine locked eyes with Isabela. The Admiral moved closer, until the two were nose to nose. “Lady Ambassador, I think…” she let one hand trail down from Josephine’s neck to her chest, cupping a breast, “I could warm you better if I used my mouth.” The same hand moved further, trailing just past of a patch of particularly smooth skin, sliding fingers slowly up and down beside her labia, staying out of reach. The younger woman gasped again, mouth hanging slightly open while the Admiral asked, “Would you like me to warm you with my mouth?” 

Josephine found that her own mouth had run dry, and she needed to swallow before replying, “I think I would like that very much…” She tilted her head a bit and closed the distance between their lips, Isabela moaning softly into the kiss. Josephine relished in feeling their tongues slowly dance with one another, Isabela giving a tender nibble of Josephine’s lower lip as she broke the embrace to slowly climb over the Antivan. The Rivaini straddled one of the younger woman’s legs, leaning in to run the tip of her tongue over the ridges of Josephine’s earlobe. For her part, the ambassador had both arms out in front of her, cupping Isabela’s breasts in both hands. As the Admiral moved to kiss, lick and suck at Josephine’s neck, she felt her nipples hardening from fingers gently squeezing at them. Smirking, she leaned back, sitting upright on Josephine’s thigh, looking down at her prostrate form. The Antivan sat up, keeping eye contact with Isabela as her tongue swept over an erect nipple, closing her lips around it, sliding her tongue up and down. She took the small golden hoop between her teeth and tugged gently, eliciting a groan from the Rivaini. 

 

"I could be mistaken, Sweetness, but are you seducing me?” she let out a gasp as Josephine switched nipples, maintaining hold on the first nipple ring with her fingers. “All this time, I thought this was about keeping you from succumbing to hypothermia…” Isabela cooed, running her own hands through her hair as the Antivan worked at her. Josephine sighed out, “There’s just something about you…” She pulled a bit at Isabela’s hair, the Admiral leaning down to steal a kiss once again. “I can’t help myself. I want you,” she said, burying her face in the crook of Isabela’s neck, lips traversing in search of pressure points. The Rivaini smirked, pressing her hands on Josephine’s back. “And right now, you most certainly have me, Sweetness.” She maneuvered off the younger woman’s leg and sat her up on her knees, the both of them equally mobile and upright. Her hands caressed Josephine’s breasts as she caught her mouth once more, then leaned in to whisper hot breath into Josephine’s ear. 

“You are absolutely gorgeous,” she cooed as she stroked a hard nipple with her thumb, feeling the younger woman squirm. “Exquisite.” Her other hand gripped a cheek of Josephine’s ass, releasing after a moment to slink over her thigh. Her fingers held position on the mound just above the Antivan’s slit, giving firm but unmoving pressure against the bare flesh there. In protest, Josephine’s hips jerked slightly, trying to move Isabela’s fingers to that sweet spot. The Admiral smirked and after hopping very pointedly over the bit of pink flesh poking out from the top, she let her fingers gently slide down, just barely touching her lips. Isabela could hear Josephine’s soft whine as she doubled back, coating the tips of her fingers in the girl’s slick. She pressed her thumb to the area just above the Antivan’s eager nub while her other digits slowly ran along the curves of her outer lips, never quite putting enough pressure to push inside, but enough to create a delectable friction. “Oh, Admiral…” the younger woman pleaded, mouth slackened, breathing a bit harder. Isabela smirked, removing her hand for just a moment, asking playfully, “Have you forgotten my name, Lady Ambassador? What do you want of me?” Josephine let out an incredulous laugh, and moved to face the Admiral, purring out between kisses, “Isabela. Isabela. My dear Admiral Isabela, please… I want you to take me.” At that, the Rivaini smiled broadly and began to trail kisses down the Antivan’s body.

Isabela replaced her hand to its previous location and position, her fingers slowly teasing Josephine’s entrance while making broad circles with her thumb just above a throbbing clit. She took a moment to pause at her lover’s breasts, giving teasingly chaste, brief pecks to each nipple before encasing them in her mouth, lavishing broad strokes of her tongue, letting out contented sighs as she sucked at them. After Josephine started panting, Isabela laid herself down on the mattress. She grinned up at the eager Antivan, slinking her upper torso between Josephine’s open knees. Giving a wink, Isabela wrapped an arm around her lover’s waist for support, while leaning closer and planting wet kisses to the hip bones and inner thigh. She finally planting her lips against Josephine’s labia when the ambassador panted out a “Oh, please, please…” Her tongue glided briskly over the sensitive skin, a noise of surprise coming from above as Josephine leaned forward and braced herself against the large wooden headboard. Quite amused with herself, Isabela gradually began to apply more pressure, extending the licks, spreading the surface of her tongue. She parted the inner lips and began to lap at the sweet slickness leaking from inside, purring against her lover’s skin, “I could do this all day… you taste amazing.” 

Josephine mouth fell open wider as she moaned, her hips twitching without thinking, staring down at Isabela. Noticing her lover’s gaze, she returned it as she slid her tongue inside Josephine’s dripping slit, using just a bit at first, moving in and out, and then plunging more and more of the dexterous muscle inside. Josephine’s eyes closed as her head fell back. The Antivan’s thighs trembled as the tip of Isabela’s nose ground against her aching clit as she fucked her with her tongue. As she drove in and out, Isabela’s tongue curled just enough to hit sensitive nodes inside Josephine, and her hips twitching had progressed to a regular rocking motion. Isabela suddenly retracted her tongue, and the younger woman groaned from the sudden loss, but it was soon replaced by steady licking just around her clit, followed by barely-there kisses on the clit, followed by lips wrapped around the clit, dabbing her tongue against the bundle of nerves. 

The moaning Antivan had felt something tightening and building within her, and she took her hands from the headboard, cupping her own breast and squeezing the nipple with one, placing the other on the back of Isabela’s head, fingers sinking into her thick hair. While continuing to gingerly lap at and around her lover’s clit, Isabela also moved her hands. She splayed one out over Josephine’s pelvis, thumb moving in firm, broad circles a bit above the clit, and moved the other to the sopping wet set of inner lips. After letting some of Josephine’s juices coat them, Isabela slid one of her digits inside, feeling hot muscles tensing against her as she moved in and out. Meanwhile, she flattened her tongue and was giving long, hard strokes, ever edged on by her lover’s enthusiastic vocal response. She added a second finger, slowing her pace and curling the digits within Josephine, making a slow, consistent “come hither” beckoning gesture with her hand. 

Josephine by this point was glistening with sweat, and felt rather thoroughly outside of her conscious mind. Her hips gyrated and ground against Isabela’s motions, her hands roughly tugged at the Admiral’s hair, her voice crying out sounds she had no idea she could make. Isabela began to hum against the skin surrounding Josephine’s clit as her tongue lapped at it roughly, rapidly, the pair of curled fingers within her hitting a spot that made her cry out, “Oh Maker, don’t stop! Oh that feels so good! Isabela!” Always one to follow good orders, Isabela stayed the course, feeling the Antivan’s walls tighten around her digits, juices bursting from her, body quaking as orgasm wracked her. To wit, Isabela sped up her fingers just a bit as she felt the first wave hit, tongue rapidly flicking against her clit, and smirked to herself as she felt her hair gripped as Josephine made a near-soundless, desperate gasp before exclaiming again, twitching as she came a second time. She was so focused on her task that she didn’t anticipate Josephine collapsing into a heap on her side, and only narrowly ducked her head out of the way of an errant leg. 

The Admiral smirked, turning to face her exhausted lover, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Lady Ambassador, would you say you’re warm enough, now?” she asked, maintaining eye contact with Josephine as she licked her fingers clean. The Antivan nodded, gaze clouded with desire, pulling the Rivaini’s face to hers for an extended kiss. Josephine could taste herself on Isabela’s lips as she pulled away and suddenly climbed out of the bed. Josephine sat up quickly, asking, “Where are you going?”

Isabela’s face spread into a satisfied grin. “Sweetness, I’m turning the lights out,” she pointedly blew out the closest candle before walking toward the next, “and then I’m going,” two more candles extinguished, “right here,” she said, approaching the bed from the side opposite where she started. 

“Oh. Well. Good. I think I’ve come up with a way to express my gratitude,” Josephine responded slowly, gaining confidence with each word. 

“I look forward to it.” Isabela blew out the last candle and climbed back under the covers, pulling Josephine into a close embrace.

 

Isabela stood at the quarter deck of the Siren’s Call, staring out at the waves while idly holding the pegs on the steering wheel. Beyond her usual aura of command, this morning there seemed to be some particular warmth to her. She had gone as far as to don her Admiral hat, which she generally saved for special occasions. The sun glinted off her copious jewelry as she hummed something to herself. 

Josephine had been watching her from the lower deck for longer than she had been letting on, and she couldn’t help her staring. An errant seagull, however, had plans for her that did not involve maintaining her relative stealth. The feathered thief made a quick turn in the air and divebombed toward the bit of bread the Antivan held in her hand. At this, she let out a surprised yelp, dropped the crust and jumped backwards. Being a ship in the early hours, dew and remnants from waves left puddles here and there, and Josephine’s shoes slid on the liquid, making her fall over into a pile of crates with a surprised cry.

“You don’t need to fall overboard again just to have me warm you up, Sweetness,” Isabela cooed as she made her way to the downed ambassador. She held her hand out to the younger woman, pulling her up and away from the debris gently. Josephine laughed softly as she brushed dust and fragments off her garments, then straightened them as she collected herself. “Though I certainly enjoyed the aftermath, I would like to avoid plummeting into the sea again this week, if possible,” she said with a chuckle.

Isabela leaned in and purred into Josephine’s ear, breath warm against the lobe, “I want to give you a present.” She ducked into her quarters for only a moment, and came back with a large felt case, offering it to the Antivan. Inside was a black wide-brimmed cavalier hat with deep violet ribbon at the base, showcasing a pair of peacock feathers on either side. “May I?” Isabela asked, pushing a loose lock of wavy raven hair back behind Josephine’s ear before setting the hat atop her head. 

“I thought since you might be entering privateering, you needed a captain’s hat of your own. I had it commissioned in Val Royeaux before we embarked. I’d meant to give it as a farewell gift, but I wanted to see it on you now. I hope you like it,” Isabela explained. 

Josephine beamed, taking a moment to stare into the reflective surface of a window, examining her visage. “I love it, it’s perfect.” She wrapped her arms around her lover, bringing her in for a deep kiss before resting her hands at either side of the Admiral’s waist. The two of them grinned at each other a long moment before Isabela reached behind her, opening the door to her quarters and raising an eyebrow in invitation. The two hurried inside, slamming the door behind them, as Isabela said something about wanting to see how the hat looked when Josephine was wearing nothing else.


End file.
